


Rational Acts

by nebulia



Category: Havemercy Series - Jaida Jones & Danielle Bennett
Genre: Life on the farm, M/M, Pre-Slash, mostly ridiculous, post-Shadow Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 09:28:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nebulia/pseuds/nebulia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caius has no idea what he's getting himself into. (Or: Gardens have mud in them. Somehow Caius missed this fact.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rational Acts

**Author's Note:**

> Very old post from the old Thremedon anon meme (located [here](http://thremedon.livejournal.com/70195.html?thread=1664563#t1664563)). Mostly silly. 
> 
> Prompt was: "For once, Caius was unable to come up with anything to say"
> 
> The title comes from a Margaret Atwood quote, one with which I think Caius would agree: "Gardening is not a rational act."

Eventually, chatting with Yana, delightful though she might have been, got a bit tedious. We got along splendidly, of course, and when the conversation grew dull she entertained the both of us with tales of Alcibiades' childhood, which made him shoot baleful looks at Yana and glare at me when she wasn't looking.

However, one cannot just sit around all day, and Yana couldn't always talk to me, because she had things to do. And how often does one get to visit a farm, anyway? I decided, after a week or so, that participating in the festivities might be a good idea.

I brought this up to Alcibiades as he was doing the dishes one night after dinner.

"I would like to help out."

Alcibiades nearly dropped the plate in his hand, only catching it, I assume, due to his swordsman reflexes. For such a large man, he was quite fast. It was admirable, really. "You _what?"_  
  
I pouted, though Alcibiades had gone back to the dishes and missed it. I must say the pout had vastly improved when I fixed my hairstyle to account for my bad eye, and so it was a shame that Alcibiades wasn't looking anymore.

"Your Yana is always so busy, and there's so little for me to do. Except that's not true! I want to help. With the chores. It sounds terribly exotic."

Alcibiades snorted, and then coughed violently. " _Exotic?"_  
  
"Well, of course! There aren't any farms in Thremedon."

He lifted and eyebrow, and then shook his head. "Well, then. If you say so. You can start by drying the wet dishes. Just grab one of the clean towels hanging on the hook on the wall." He shot me a Look. "And don't drop any."

I laughed. "Surely you have more faith in me than that, my dear!"

He just shook his head again, and went back to scrubbing.

\--

Farm hours were really quite interesting. It wasn't quite dark by the time the dishes were finished and put away--of course, I did not drop a single plate-- we went to bed almost immediately afterwards, and everyone woke early in the morning, often before dawn. I had taken to their sleeping schedule simply because it was convenient and honestly, I'd gotten rather used to Alcibiades' soft snores coming from the other bed and when they were no longer there, I woke up from the lack of sound. So when he shook me awake--more violently than necessary, I might add--the next morning, I was ready to get up.

"Put on clothes you don't mind getting dirty," he said, "and meet me downstairs. We need to thin out the garden."

I wasn't sure what that meant, but I was sure I would learn. It sounded quite exciting, to say the least.

But clothes I didn't mind getting dirty? What _was_ the good general thinking?

\--

When I came outside, the sun was just barely poking over the horizon and Alcibiades was standing inside the fence of Yana's huge garden. She sold vegetables, honey, and dairy products at the market, Alcibiades had told me, so the garden was very important to her, and it was as large as some of the finest decorative gardens in Th'Esar's palace and brilliantly green, with hints of orange and yellow and red and purple from the various fruits and vegetables beginning to grow.

And then I noticed that Alcibiades was shoeless, the legs of his pants rolled up to his knees and in a shirt I'd seen him use to chop wood, with the sleeves cut off. It showed off his arms quite nicely. They were very attractive arms--muscular, of course, but functional, not like some of Th'Esar's guards, who couldn't lift their arms above their heads.

He glanced up from where he was examining the leaves of some plant or another. "Take off your shoes and roll up your pants," he said. "It's a little muddy out."

I took a look at his feet. They were half buried in the thick dark dirt, and there were already streaks of mud on his shins.

Oh heavens.

"You didn't mention the mud," I said.

"I _told_ you to wear clothes you didn't mind getting dirty," Alcibiades said, and it sounded like he couldn't decide if he was amused or cross. "Now stop whining and come on. It's just a little mud. You'll live."

For once, I was unable to come up with anything to say.


End file.
